


Parallels

by authorinprogress97



Series: Interlinked & Interlaced [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: 95 Line Shenanigans, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups & Lee Jihoon | Woozi Friendship, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups Being an Idiot, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups is Bad at Feelings, Drunk Texting, Fluff, Heart-to-Heart, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Bad at Feelings, Mutual Pining, Pining, SEVENTEEN Are Ungrateful Children, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Texting, at a couple points in the fic even, at least it's slow burn for me, jeonghan is a realationship expert, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorinprogress97/pseuds/authorinprogress97
Summary: It’s like being pulled in six opposing directions at the same time and still being spun around. He’s constantly dizzy, confused and on the verge of puking.(Min Yoongi brings bewilderment and confusion into Seungcheol’s life. He thinks he might be starting to like it.)[Seungcheol/Yoongi]





	1. The Recurring Theme

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with the next fic that's named after another obscure thing you probs learnt in school. i'm a nerd like that. would you believe this fic took me like four months to complete??? i started writing it like two days after posting refraction, no lie.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first look, getting to know Min Yoongi is a Hassle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't read [refraction](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10967931), you probably should, because it alludes to stuff that happened there, esp in this first chapter. you don't _have_ to read it, but it will put some stuff into perspective.

At first, he's simply a vaguely recognizable face. They always seem to catch each other at the end of a promotional period – be it SEVENTEEN’s or Bangtan’s. For the first year or so, Min Yoongi is a name he doesn't know and Suga is an unfamiliar sunbae with a vaguely familiar face.

He looks a little bit like Jihoon, but they’re not the same. Jihoon’s sweet, cute and a handful. Seungcheol has to wrestle his favourite dongsaeng (shh, don’t tell the others) out of the studio most days. This Suga, this Min Yoongi-sunbaenim, is an utter stranger and Seungcheol has no responsibility over him.

Seungcheol kind of wants to get to know him.

There’s no ulterior motive to it. He just thinks Suga is an interesting man and a talented lyricist-producer that he can learn from – oh, who is Seungcheol bullshitting?

For once, Seungcheol wants to be around someone he’s _not_ obligated to look after. Suga sunbaenim is older and he’s a rapper from Daegu. They have something in common and Seungcheol misses home.

But overall, it's nothing more than a faint desire. The only contact they have with each other are backstage music show meetings and sitting near each other at music awards shows.

 

 

Then Pledis decides it's a great idea for SEVENTEEN to collaborate with Bangtan for the end of year music show. Seungcheol can't say no, but he doesn't want to either. It'll be good publicity.

They start early, in August, a little after Seungcheol's birthday and a little before the start of SEVENTEEN’s first ever out-of-Korea tour. Both companies want to show off just how talented their idols are. Seungcheol handpicks Jihoon, Soonyoung, Jisoo and Hansol and sends them off to the practice room to meet up with their sunbaenims.

“You’re not coming?” Jisoo enquires as he hands Soonyoung his cap and smooths an errant tuft of hair on Hansol’s head. The fans might joke that Jeonghan is the dorm mother, but it’s really a role that’s shared between Jisoo and Junhui. Jisoo always had a knack for looking out for others – even Seungcheol – without them realising they’re being mothered until it’s too late; the next thing they know, they’ve been shuffled onto the couch with a warm mug of coffee or tea between their hands and a blanket smoothed over their laps.

Seungcheol grins, ruffling Jisoo’s hair. “You can look after the kids for me,” he says, as if Soonyoung and Jihoon aren't leaders, aren't responsible adults who can lead a group of their peers better than Jisoo can. (Seungcheol wonders if Jisoo is bitter – he knows that _he_ is, and he's the overall leader and eldest hyung.)

Jisoo nods, small smile spreading across his lips. There's a faint dusting of pink across Jisoo’s cheeks that makes Seungcheol ache, if only because the show of trust is enough for his friend. Jisoo deserves so much more.

Jeonghan ambles out of the bedroom, short black hair a tousled mess around his sleep-swollen face. Even then, there's still an almost ethereal beauty surrounding the vocalist.

“You're not there to chaperone?” Jeonghan asks, voice still thick with sleep. He shuffles to the kitchen, slippers dragging across the hardwood floors.

“They're adults,” Seungcheol says amicably, shutting the fridge door when his friend walks away without closing it. “Besides, Jisoo’s there.”

Jeonghan snorts into his mug of milk, rolling his eyes a little. “Cheol, you know I love Jisoo, but the kids don't listen to him.”

The leader dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “They listen to him,” he insists, even though he's not quite sure it's true.

Maybe it's because, after all this time, Jisoo can still be a bit of an outsider. The American native is hard to understand sometimes, but he makes up for it with the care and concern he shows the others. Nonetheless, Seungcheol thinks they regard him much like they would a crazy uncle – well-meaning, but best ignored.

“They won't revolt,” Jeonghan concedes, heading back into the living room to flop onto the couch and rest his slippered feet in Chan’s lap. The maknae, despite the unwelcome disturbance, merely rolls his eyes and rests a hand on Jeonghan’s delicate ankles. The fond smile Jeonghan shoots the maknae says _despite everything, you're still my favourite._ The way Chan strokes the elder’s ankles says _even though you annoy me, I still love you_.

 

 

Jihoon is a quiet child by trait. He doesn't say much unless he has something he absolutely he to say. Coaxing words from him is like convincing a baby tiger to come towards you; you need to approach carefully, because the animal can still hurt you, despite being so small. Thankfully, Seungcheol has somewhat mastered the art of getting Jihoon to talk.

When Jihoon comes back from practice with Bangtan and heads straight for the bedroom, Seungcheol turns to Soonyoung. The performance team leader shrugs.

“He's been like that since he and Jimin sunbae came out of the recording studio,” the young leader answers, frowning slightly. “I can't get him to talk. It's your turn, hyung.”

Although Seungcheol doesn't have much to do with SEVENTEEN’s creative direction, he does do a lot of background work. He's the one who makes sure all thirteen boys are present, washed, fed and well-rested enough for practice. He helps the managers coordinate anything and he's worked hard to be a sound board for the boys when they're frustrated, stressed or simply need someone to talk to. Despite how hard Seungcheol works at that, he's only human. He can't be there for all twelve of his boys at once and he has favourites, like any other person.

Jihoon is his favourite.

They've had a long history together, starting from Tempest and ending (for now) with SEVENTEEN. Seungcheol knows he's one of the few people Jihoon is willing to open up to, and Jihoon is the only one Seungcheol will talk to when everything gets too much. They're best friends. (Once they could've been more, but then life got in the way, as it always does.)

He knocks on the door, waiting for Jihoon to reply. His voice is quiet, like there's too much going on in his head and the only thing that'll make it better is the lack of external noise. He still lets Seungcheol in anyway.

“Hey,” Seungcheol murmurs, watching Jihoon's face carefully for signs of tears or exhaustion. Jihoon merely shoots him a wan smile.

“I’m fine,” the younger answers immediately, which only proves how _not fine_ he is.

Seungcheol hesitates, then steps in and shuts the door behind him firmly. “Want to talk about it?”

Jihoon hesitates. The pause stretches, from a moment to a minute and then two. Seungcheol takes a seat next to Jihoon, the latter not even flinching as the mattress next to him dips.

“Hyung,” Jihoon says once the silence stretches uncomfortably. “Do I… make you feel inadequate and talentless?”

Seungcheol's answer is immediate. “No, of course not.” He hesitates, then continues, “Did someone make you feel that way?”

Seungcheol will fight anyone who says Jihoon is any of those things. The vocal team leader has fought long and hard to be respected for his talent; his youth and limited experience a barrier when it comes to people taking him seriously. Jihoon has a lot of fears and considerations (Seungcheol remembers back in their early days of debut, when Jihoon broke down on camera and when Seungcheol revealed at a radio show that he and Jihoon have gotten awkward) and he won't tolerate someone bringing all of those to the surface. Jihoon, as tough as he tries to be, is so very fragile.

The younger shakes his head, smiling shakily. “No,” he sighs, reaching out to touch Seungcheol's hand. “Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you.”

Seungcheol turns his hand, squeezing Jihoon's hand. “You still didn't answer my question.”

“… No, hyung. Jimin hyung just… said some things.” The vocalist bites his bottom lip. “He said I made him feel small. And talentless. And – ”

“And inadequate,” Seungcheol finishes. “It's not your fault, Jihoonie.” It's not like the boy can stop himself from shining as brightly as he does. Naturally, there will be people who feel like they're being overshadowed – but he never pegged _Bangtan’s Jimin_ as the person to call Jihoon out for that.

“I don't want anyone to feel that way because of me,” the young producer says quietly.

Seungcheol wants to pull the young leader (the maknae of the leaders, really) in for a hug, but Jihoon isn't Seungkwan. He doesn't seek physical comfort the way the others do. He needs emotional support, which isn't as easy as it sounds.

“It's not your fault if you do,” Seungcheol murmurs, offering a small smile. “You're just so good at what you do, Jihoonie. But don't ever feel bad about it.” He lets Jihoon process his words, then pats the younger’s narrow shoulders. “Come on, we saved some dinner for you. The boys probably didn't finish it all.”

It's a small victory when Jihoon offers a small – but genuine – smile and follows after him without much protest.

 

 

Jihoon is in tears.

Seungcheol sees red. Rage wells in his chest, lodged somewhere between his heart and his lungs. He wants to hit something – no, he wants to hit this _Jimin hyung_ who thinks he can make his Jihoon cry like this.

He hears Jisoo's panicked _fuck, Cheol, Jihoon's crying_ and takes off without further prompting. Junhui hands him a coat and a reminder that they have schedules tomorrow before Seungcheol's making the run down to the company and to Jihoon.

Out of the other twelve members, he knows he's the one who's seen Jihoon cry the most. It tears at his heart every single time, if only because it takes a lot for Jihoon to break down like this.

Jihoon doesn't cry noisily. He's not like Seungkwan, who's loud in seemingly every aspect of his life. He holds in his sobs, every sniffle bearing a fraction of the pain he's feeling. Seungcheol walks into the practice room to see Jihoon hunched over the table at the side, jerking from the occasional sob he can’t control.

It takes an hour for Seungcheol to coax a story out of Jihoon, the younger male reluctant to give details. However, Seungcheol is ridiculously stubborn and has made talking to Jihoon an art form.

The story Jihoon tells is enough for Seungcheol to drop by the next joint practice and act out.

Afterwards, Junhui will sit Seungcheol down in the dining room and ice his bruised hand, but the leader doesn't regret it. He'd do anything for Jihoon.

 

 

“Ow – Jisoo, cut it out!”

The vocalist sighs, shooting Seungcheol an annoyed look that doesn't suit him. “I told you he'd retaliate,” Jisoo says, pressing the pack of peas to Seungcheol's jaw. “It's going to bruise.”

“Why does Jihoon even like him?” Seungcheol complains, as if he hasn't done it at least once every week for the past two months Jihoon and Jimin have been dating. “He’s practically the devil incarnate.”

Junhui chuckles, setting a mug of tea in front of the leader. Seungcheol knows it's bad when the resident dorm mothers are tag-teaming him. “They say that about Jihoon, so they must be a match made in heaven. Hell?” The Chinese male frowns, before nodding once. “Yeah, hell.”

Although the eldest won't admit it, he's happy that Jihoon is dating Jimin, if only because the former is happier these days. Jimin is Jihoon's first boyfriend, but he also seems to be treating Jihoon much better than when they first met.

When Mingyu comes in, bright red and mumbling about Jihoon hyung making out against the wall, the three males in the kitchen erupt into giggles.

“He's not so bad,” Seungcheol admits reluctantly. “As long as he makes Jihoonie happy.”

“Your favouritism is showing,” Junhui jokes, leaving when Minghao calls for him.

Jisoo and Seungcheol sit in silence, only Jisoo's ringtone breaking the quiet as he gets Kakao message after Kakao message. There's a hidden smile on Jisoo's lips as he replies, a chuckle coaxed from him at whatever his conversation partner had said. When the American finally puts his phone down, Seungcheol spots _Taehyungie_ before the screen goes black.

“You're close,” he comments. Jisoo clears his throat, a faint pink dusting across tanned cheeks.

“He's okay,” the vocalist murmurs, biting back a smile. “He's fun to talk to, that's all.”

“Uh huh.” Seungcheol studies his friend’s face carefully – takes in the blush, the shifty eyes and the light wrinkle of his nose. “On a scale of one to ten, how big is your crush?”

“ _Crush_ ,” Jisoo squeaks, his blush deepening. “What are you – we're not in _middle school_ , Seungcheol. G-grow up!”

Seungcheol merely grins, making sure he looks as aggravating as possible. Jisoo smacks a new pack of frozen peas against his jaw in retaliation, huffing at the pained whine Seungcheol lets out.

“You’re mean,” Seungcheol calls out at his retreating back. Jisoo flips him off; Seungcheol comes to the conclusion that Taehyung is a bad influence (not that Seungcheol will do anything to get between them).

There’s a knock on the door. Seungcheol doesn’t remember ordering takeout, but the young ones are starting a movie marathon soon. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were the ones who ordered in without asking him first. He yells out _I’ll get it_ when the others don’t seem like they’re moving, rolling his eyes slightly. He really shouldn’t baby them like this, but he’s always liked spoiling his dongsaengs (if only so they’ll dote on him more when they remember all the _good things_ he’s done for them).

He pulls the door open, blinking when he’s met with a masked face hidden under a cap. “Um,” Seungcheol says eloquently. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Seungcheol?” the stranger asks, pulling down his mask and revealing an unexpectedly pretty face. A sharp jaw, pursed lips and almost cat-like eyes that are simultaneously soft and sharp. “Jihoon texted me and said Jimin punched someone.”

“Jihoon… texted you,” Seungcheol repeats dumbly. The stranger – this person who looks like Jihoon but _isn’t_ Jihoon – shoots him a look that suggests he thinks Seungcheol is about as smart as the dried-up gum wedged under a school desk.

“Did he give you a concussion?” Not-Jihoon demands, shouldering his way in. He pulls the pack of peas from Seungcheol’s face, hissing at the myriad of blues and purples that will be a part of Seungcheol’s face for the unforeseeable future. “Is your sight okay? This kid… he never knows when to pull his punches. Are you _okay_?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol replies intelligibly. “Do I know you?”

Not-Jihoon shoots him an exasperated look. “You’re telling me your best friend has been dating Jimin for two months and you don’t even know who’s in Bangtan? Kid, please tell me you’re not always this dumb.”

Not knowing how to respond to this, SEVENTEEN’s leader shakes his head dumbly. “I – I’m not a kid,” he protests, even as this strange man (idol?) drags him into his _own_ kitchen and sits him down. “You – you still didn’t tell me who you are!”

“Min Yoongi,” the black-haired male replies, pulling off his cap. He looks so… _soft_. “Yoongi hyung to you, I guess. You’re the same age as Jisoo, right?”

Another blank nod from Seungcheol. It's fascinating, how Yoongi _almost_ looks like Jihoon – like an afterimage or a mirage. The way he speaks, his mannerisms and even his facial expressions are nothing like Jihoon. An utter stranger in a body he almost knows.

“Um, hyung,” Seungcheol calls out hesitantly, “what are you doing here?”

Yoongi pauses. Seungcheol thinks indecision flashes across the elder’s face, but it's gone in a blink. Turning around, Yoongi pins Seungcheol in place with a look that can almost be described as bored.

“Sorry,” Bangtan’s rapper sighs, leaning against the counter. “I feel… responsible over Jimin. He’s, like, my favourite dongsaeng. Or whatever.”

“Cute,” Seungcheol says absently. Yoongi’s face turns red, sputtering at the unintentional admission. The back of Seungcheol’s neck heats up as well; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “You – I was talking about Jihoon! He – he’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah, very cute,” Yoongi agrees hastily. The speed of his answer still can’t dissipate the awkwardness that falls over them, slowly suffocating both rappers in the kitchen.

Seungcheol swallows nervously, chair creaking as he shifts. He notices Yoongi watch him out of the corner of his eyes, shoulders tense. “I, uh, I don’t need a nurse,” Seungcheol says cautiously, careful not to offend the elder. “I’ve got, like, eleven other members to look after me.” _Even though I’m the one who’s supposed to be looking after them, but that’s how it goes around, I guess._

“You don’t have to,” Yoongi says abruptly, turning so he’s looking Seungcheol straight in the eyes. Seated like this, Yoongi practically looms over him. “You don’t need to act like you don’t need looking after. Everyone needs looking after.”

The sentiment acts like an arrow to Seungcheol’s chest. His breath rushes out of him, face heating up. His ribs feel fragile, shattering on impact. He doesn’t know Yoongi – and by that line of thought, Yoongi doesn’t know him either. He doesn’t know what Seungcheol has to struggle with.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Seungcheol says coolly – only _coolly_ , not _coldly_ , because Yoongi is from Bangtan, which makes him a senior and he should be respectful. He should be respectful even when Min Yoongi – who he doesn’t know and who doesn’t know him – is overstepping boundaries and poking himself into things he doesn’t know about. He stands up then, and even if Yoongi isn’t that much shorter than him, he makes use of every centimetre. “Please leave. I think your members will get worried if you don’t go home.”

The line of Yoongi’s jaw tightens. His lips part and Seungcheol steadies himself for whatever the elder has to say, but Yoongi simply rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he grinds out, pushing away from the counter. “Don’t ice it for too long or you’re gonna damage something.”

Seungcheol doesn’t walk Yoongi to the door, knowing it’s not expected of him. Not since Yoongi shot the arrow that shattered his ribs and tried to tug his heart out of his chest.

“Who does he think he is?” Seungcheol mutters to himself, throwing the thawed-out peas back into the freezer. His jaw still aches, but it’s a dull ache he can live with. “He doesn’t know me.”

(Some part of him wishes he wanted to.)

 

 

It’s _bothering him_ , the way he had left things with Yoongi – or maybe it was the way Yoongi had left things with him, since he was the one who had physically left? Seungcheol’s head hurts from implications and guilt settles heavily in his stomach.

He should search the elder out, apologise for being a brat. He supposes all Yoongi had wanted to do was make sure he didn’t try and sue Jimin for the attack (as if he would; it’d be too hypocritical even for him). It’s the right thing to do.

Seungcheol turns to Jihoon, calling him over. They’re in the middle of practice, but Soonyoung’s called for a break. Jihoon doesn’t question why the elder leader is calling him over, probably thinking nothing of it.

“What’s up?” Jihoon asks, head tilting. He has his phone held loosely in his grip – probably getting ready to text Jimin. _Maybe I shouldn’t_ , Seungcheol thinks, glancing down at Jihoon’s phone. After all, he highly doubts he registers in Min Yoongi’s mind. He hardly did before all this happened, so why would it matter now?

_Because of Jihoon. Because Jihoon is dating Jimin and Jimin is Yoongi’s favourite dongsaeng. Fuck this._

“Can I have Min Yoongi sunbae’s number?” Seungcheol asks, uncharacteristically awkward.

The young producer blinks slowly, face carefully blank. “Yoongi hyung?” he repeats, the familiarity making Seungcheol shift awkwardly. “Why? Jimin hyung said you were pissed at him.”

“I wasn’t pissed,” Seungcheol says defensively, crossing his arms as if it could stop his best friend from knowing what’s in his metaphorical heart. “I was just – your boyfriend punched me!” _And Min Yoongi pretends he knows me when he doesn’t know jackshit._

“You punched him first,” Jihoon points out, grabbing Seungcheol's phone and unlocking it with a quick swipe.

Seungcheol bristles, standing a little straighter so he looms over Jihoon ( _the way he’d loomed over Yoongi, but Jihoon is smaller and at least_ he knows Seungcheol, _unlike Yoongi_ ). “You're on _his_ side?”

“I'm not on your side. I'm not on his side either. I'm on _my_ side,” Jihoon retorts with a scowl. He tosses Seungcheol’s phone at the latter’s face, having done what he was beckoned over to do. “Maybe I should punch both of you. Make it even.” Jihoon stomps off then, looking aggravatingly adorable in all his ire. He makes a beeline for Soonyoung – probably ready to talk the latter’s ear off about how aggravating men born in 1995 can be.

Seungcheol lets slip a faint smile, letting out a fond sigh. He looks down at his phone, absently rubbing his forehead – he hadn't quite been fast enough to catch his phone, unfortunately.

The contact _Min Yoongi_ glares up at him innocently before fading to black.

 

 

_I apologise for the way I acted the other day._

No. Too formal.

Seungcheol furiously erases the message, fingers dancing in the air briefly before typing another message.

_Hey, hyung. Sorry for acting like a brat the other day._

Too casual. Fuck.

Seungcheol groans, burying his face into his pillow. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he'll suffocate and die.

The bedroom is blissfully silent, the only sounds coming from the living room. The noise is muffled by the door, shut by Seungcheol hours ago as he threatened practice room clean-up duty on anyone who interrupted him. The threat, he knew, was enough to keep anyone from barging in, so he hadn't bothered with the lock.

He's been trying to type out an apology message to Yoongi for the past hour, but nothing is coming out _right_.

Jesus, dealing with Jihoon when he's in one of those music-induced fits would be easier than crafting a simple two sentence message, what the fuck.

Seungcheol rolls over, staring at the bottom of the bunk bed like it'll magically write an apology text to Min Yoongi without intervention from him.

He briefly contemplates asking for help, but the urge is quickly squashed by the knowledge that his members wouldn't hesitate to tease him about it. Seungcheol would _die_ if Jeonghan caught wind of this. He'd never hear the end of it.

He rolls over onto his stomach again, glaring down at his too-bright phone screen. Come on, Seungcheol, think of something appropriate to start with.

 _Hi, this is Choi Seungcheol_ , he begins. He nods; that’s a good solid start. Now… to get to the rest of it.

The apology. He’ll start with that.

_I want to apologise for being a brat the other night._

He pauses. Re-evaluates. It’s not too formal and it’s not too casual. Okay, continue.

_You meant well and I had no right to act that way or say the things I said. I hope you can forgive me._

There. Seungcheol frowns down at the message, scrutinising every word. Is – is that even enough? Maybe he should offer to do something to show how sorry he is.

_If you don’t mind, I could take you out for coffee or dinner to make up for it? I’ll pay. All you have to do is show up._

… It sounds a little bit weird. He deletes the new line, substituting the first and second sentences by combining them. Sitting up, he re-reads the whole text, mouthing the words so they don’t come out offensive or overly polite.

 

**To: Min Yoongi**

_Hi, this is Choi Seungcheol from SEVENTEEN. I want to apologise for being a brat the other night. You meant well and I had no right to act that way or say the things I said. I hope you can forgive me._

_If you don’t mind, I could buy you coffee or dinner to make up for it? All you have to do is show up._

 

Seungcheol hesitates, then adds a smile emoji at the end, if only so the entire thing doesn’t sound like a business proposition. He supposes it _is_ one… but he’d also like to be somewhat friends with the elder. He’d rather their friendship not end with a terse standoff in SEVENTEEN’s rarely used kitchen.

Before he can second-guess himself, Seungcheol sends the message.

 

 

“You asked Yoongi hyung out?” Jisoo asks at dinner. The loud conversations grind to a halt, only leaving behind an empty silence. It’s somehow worse than the noise.

Seungcheol blinks dumbly. Once. Twice. Three times.

The leader opens his mouth, acutely aware of the piercing stares of all his little underlings. “What?” tumbles out of his mouth.

Jisoo quirks an eyebrow. Junhui looks between the two same-aged friends, wondering if he should intervene. Jeonghan looks faintly scandalised, expression growing sharper as Seungcheol allows the silence to extend into infinity.

“TaeTae said you asked Yoongi hyung out,” Jisoo clarifies, glancing at his phone as if to emphasise the point. “What did you say to him? As far as I can tell, he read your message, turned red and walked straight out of the dorm.”

“He – what?”

What’s going on? Seungcheol’s lost control of his life. He doesn’t know what’s happening anymore. There’s this buzzing sound in his ears and he feels numb, like he’s been struck by lightning.

“I didn’t think hyung had the balls to ask someone out,” Seungkwan comments idly, picking the meat off his chicken wing. There are noises of assent from the other kids and even a snort from Hansol.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol squawks, unfrozen long enough to demonstrate his indignation. “I have plenty balls!”

“Apparently so,” Jihoon snickers and that’s apparently the cue for the kids to return to their regularly scheduled program. The noise starts up again, first as gentle murmurs, then ends up being Seokmin yelling at Soonyoung from across the room. Seungcheol can feel a headache coming on; he can’t believe he’s signed up for another decade of _this_.

Jisoo’s still looking at him, so Seungcheol finds the words to blame him for the reason everyone keeps shooting him sly smirks.

“ _TaeTae_? Since when did you guys get that close?” he sputters. That’s not quite what he wanted to say, but Jisoo’s cheeks are flooding with red anyway. Junhui coos, patting Jisoo’s cheek gently. ( _It’s official, Junhui is the true mother of the dorm._ )

“It’s not a crush!” Jisoo squeaks, standing up abruptly. “I’m going to bed!”

“Can I have the rest of your dinner?” Mingyu asks, only to get smacked by Wonwoo, Jihoon and Seungcheol respectively. “OW! I was just _asking_ , fuck.”

“I will wash your mouth out with soap,” Junhui warns, raising his chopsticks threateningly. Mingyu pales – Chan had thought it was a good idea to swear around Junhui and was spitting out Dove body soap out of his mouth for a full week after.

Seungcheol frowns, turning to Junhui. “Wait, what did he mean I asked Yoongi hyung out on a date?”

A loud _smack_ echoes through the room as the rest of SEVENTEEN (except for Jisoo), as if they had practiced it (and maybe they had), collectively facepalm.

Seungkwan moves his hand off his face first, lips curled into a frown. He opens his mouth to spit some scathing remark, but he’s interrupted by four sharp knocks at the door. Seungcheol suddenly has eleven pairs of judgemental eyes turned towards him. He resists the urge to gulp.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll get it,” he mutters, throwing his cutlery down onto the table with a clatter. “It’s not like I’m the eldest hyung or the overall leader or whatever.”

He pulls open the door, surprised to see a dishevelled and hunched over figure in the doorway.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Seungcheol calls out hesitantly. The figure looks up and sure enough, it's Min Yoongi, pale cheeks flushed and dark hair a cloud of messy sable around his head. “Did – did you _run here_?”

“Shut up,” the elder wheezes out, slipping into Daegu satoori effortlessly. Seungcheol’s chest aches from the sudden bout of homesickness. “Did you _mean_ to ask me out or are you really that stupid?”

Seungcheol is… baffled. On so many levels. “You _ran here_ to ask me that? You have a phone and my number – who’s the real idiot here?” He lets his gaze rake over Yoongi’s struggling form again. “Your stamina is shit.”

“I didn't come here to be insulted by you,” Yoongi spits. The scowl he shoots Seungcheol is impressive.

“Then what _did_ you come here for?” Seungcheol leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. Yoongi shoots him an annoyed glare, like _Seungcheol_ was the one who interrupted his dinner.

“Your apology was shit,” Yoongi says, unfiltered and blunt.

Seungcheol feels heat rise up the back of his neck. “It was _not_ ,” he retorts haughtily. This entire situation is ridiculous. He wants to sue.

“Your apology was shit,” the elder repeats, as if Seungcheol hadn't heard him the first time. The urge to punch someone (Yoongi) hits him hard. Then, Yoongi continues, “But I wouldn't say no to a free dinner.”

Seungcheol’s jaw drops. That was utterly shameless – and he lives with Seungkwan. “So you're still accepting my apology?” he demands. He can't keep up with Yoongi. His head is spinning in circles and nothing makes sense anymore.

“I'm accepting your date,” Yoongi clarifies and that – that totally doesn't make sense, what the _fuck_.

“It wasn't meant to be a date,” Seungcheol says hotly. The warmth has creeper into his cheeks now; he's probably bright red. There's probably a vein throbbing on his forehead. _Is this real life anymore?_ His life is turning into some dramatic webtoon. “You – did you seriously run all the way to Gangnam to tell me that?”

“No, of course not.” Yoongi pauses. The look on his face screams _oh, fuck_. “I – to be frank, I don't like you that way.”

“I don't know you,” Seungcheol exclaims. This feels like an out-of-body experience. “I'm not sure I like you either!”

“But you did offer to buy me dinner.”

“To _apologize_.”

“Because your apology was shit.”

“Ye – _no_! Because I thought it was the right thing to do!”

At this point, Seungcheol is half-yelling. Yoongi has a stubborn set to his lips, dark eyes swirling with some unnamed emotion as he watches Seungcheol slowly lose his sanity because of him.

“Fine,” Yoongi says after a long pause, sounding entirely too calm. “But you're still taking me out for dinner.”

Seungcheol lets out a sigh of exasperation. “ _Yes_ , I am.”

Yoongi’s nose crinkled, forehead creasing. He sweeps his dark fringe out of his eyes. “So, like, right now?”

Another sigh of exasperation. “I literally _just_ had dinner – ”

“Okay, geez, not now.” Yoongi's cheeks puff out. Okay… Seungcheol will be the bigger man (not that he already isn't) and admit that was _cute_. “Are you free tomorrow?”

The younger shakes his head, leaning against the door jamb. There's still this weird tension between them, but it's easily ignored so they can… make plans. “I have practice,” Seungcheol explains. “Friday?”

“Can’t,” Yoongi sighs. “ _I've_ got practice.”

They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment. Neither of them dare to say Saturday, because it's usually when both Bangtan and SEVENTEEN usually have practice. Idols aren't exactly known to use their free time to _actually_ be free or anything.

“Just go on Saturday,” Soonyoung groans. “You can leave early.” Both Daegu natives jerk, whipping their heads around to the hallway, where all twelve of Seungcheol's members are not-so-subtly eavesdropping. ( _How – how did he not notice they were there???_ )

“Jiminnie hyung says Saturday’s practice is cancelled,” Jihoon adds. Seungcheol then realises he's texting Jimin – has probably been texting Jimin since Yoongi showed up at their door. Now everyone and their maknaes know about Seungcheol’s mental breakdown.

“Saturday. I'll pick you up at six,” Yoongi states, nodding firmly. “Bye.” He walks away then, acting like he hadn't just run twenty minutes to ask a few dumb questions and embarrass Seungcheol in front of his dongsaengs.

“What – what just happened?” Seungcheol asks, letting the door fall shut.

He’s starting to think this is going to be a recurring theme for the rest of his life – so long as Min Yoongi is a part of it, at least.


	2. Of Dates and Drunk Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol and Yoongi finally go on that _apology date_ and SEVENTEEN's 95 line have a heart-to-heart with soju involved.

The next three days pass by in a blur of recordings, practice and _what are you wearing for your date?_

Listen, Seungcheol wants to say, I don’t even know if it’s a date, let alone what to _wear_.

Does he go for casual? Or maybe something a little bit more formal – but is pulling out a dress-shirt and slacks too much? Hell, Seungcheol doesn’t even know where they’re going, let alone what they’re doing.

 

**To: Min Yoongi**

_Where r we gg?_

 

Seungcheol had expected a reply in two hours, if he was lucky. Instead, the moment he rests his phone on his chest, it buzzes, the cheerful _katalk!_ ringing in his ears.

 

**From: Min Yoongi**

_idk kid, u’re da one who aeksd me out_

 

Seungcheol’s eye twitches involuntarily. Not only does Yoongi type like a preschooler, but he’s also shoving all the planning on Seungcheol. It’s not like he has to manage twelve boys, deal with studio recordings and practice and, apparently, plan a date all by himself, on top of it.

 

**To: Min Yoongi**

_I’m not a kid_

_And can u type better_

_Or at least use autocorrect_

_Ur typing is giving me a headache_

**From: Min Yoongi**

_boo u’re no fun_

_live a lil, u’re still yonug_

**To: Min Yoongi**

_That’s big talk, cming frm a tiny grandpa like u_

**From: Min Yoongi**

_i’m not tyni_

_u’re 2 big tf_

_stop grwoign u giant tree_

 

“What are you smiling about?” Jeonghan asks, sitting on Seungcheol’s feet without further comment. The leader yelps, biting back a curse and glaring at his friend.

“Did you have to sit on me?” Seungcheol demands, huffing when Jeonghan simply replies with his patented angel smile.

“Did you have to take up the whole couch with your fat ass?” Jeonghan retorts, voice soft so it sounds like a gentle rebuke instead of the harsh comment it actually is. Seungcheol knows Jeonghan too well to be fooled by the false angel’s tricks. “What are you smiling about? You looked like an idiot.”

Seungcheol’s scowl deepens. How anyone was fooled by the angelic front Jeonghan used to show, he’ll never know. “None of your business,” he huffs, turning so he’s facing the back of the couch.

The look in Jeonghan's eyes is sharp, analysing and deconstructing Seungcheol's every movement. “Ah, so you're texting that sunbae.”

“What sunbae? Who's a sunbae?” Seungcheol says defensively, hugging his phone to his chest. “ _I don't know any sunbaes_.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, poking Seungcheol's stomach almost vindictively. “God, you're almost as bad as Jisoo,” the vocalist grumbles, shoving at Seungcheol's legs so he can settle against the couch more comfortably. “Why can't you just admit you like him?”

“But I don't.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, lips parting to deliver some scathing remark the Daegu native will never recover from, but he stops short. “Oh,” he murmurs. “ _Oh_.”

There's a lot of weight in that one exhale. Seungcheol _isn't_ lying. He really doesn't. He doesn't know what he feels for Min Yoongi, but it sure as hell isn't like. He's had nothing to go on, barely knows the elder rapper. There’s nothing to like.

Jeonghan shifts, frowning delicately. He places a comforting hand on Seungcheol's ankle. “And the date?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “It's just dinner,” he states, trying to feel some sort of disappointment at that. There's none. ( _I don't know him, he doesn't know me._ )

Jeonghan pats his ankle consolingly. “He looks like Jihoon,” he teases.

“He does,” Seungcheol agrees. “But he’s not Jihoon.”

From the colour of his eyes to the way he rolls his syllables, it’s obvious that Yoongi is not Jihoon. The timbre of their voices are complete different – Jihoon’s a lilting melody while Yoongi’s is a soothing bass that skitters along Seungcheol’s flesh. While both males have the Gyeongsangdo lilt in the way they speak, Yoongi’s is so much closer to home. Jihoon has never elicited homesickness in Seungcheol the way Yoongi has. Jihoon’s never made him feel unbalanced either, like Yoongi does; sometimes, the very mention of the elder throws him off-kilter.

( _He’s not responsible. Seungcheol doesn’t have to be the leader with Yoongi and he’s forgotten what that feels like, a little bit._ )

Jeonghan chuckles, soft and light. His gaze is fond as he watches Seungcheol’s face carefully. “Isn’t that a good thing?” he teases.

 

**From: Min Yoongi**

_kid? u ok?_

_we dont haev to do anthiyng fancy_

_u can treat me to tteokbokki and i’ll treat u to lamb skewers n we’ll call it even_

**To: Min Yoongi**

_wow, a whole msg w/o typos_

**From: Min Yoongi**

_stfu u giant baby_

_well? do u want to or not?_

 

“Maybe,” Seungcheol murmurs, his chat with Yoongi practically glaring at him. “Isn’t that a shame?”

 

**To: Min Yoongi**

_Nah. Dress a lil nicer than that. I’ll treat u to a proper dinner_

 

 

Once, when Seungcheol was young and Jihoon was prettier, Seungcheol thought he was in love. Jihoon was small, fit in his arms snugly and made Seungcheol feel special. Obviously, nothing came out of that except for a friendship that could weather most storms. But Seungcheol still remembers the butterflies, even if Jihoon doesn't.

Yoongi… doesn't remind him of Jihoon at all. Seungcheol knows Jihoon well enough to know that there's no universe where Lee Jihoon and Min Yoongi can be mistaken as the same person.

Min Yoongi doesn't give him butterflies – not the way Jihoon used to, at least. He makes Seungcheol’s brain fuzzy, his heart race a little faster. Seungcheol doesn’t get butterflies, but he gets everything else – the sweaty palms, the breath taken away and this niggling feeling of excitement that doesn’t want to leave.

“I don’t like him like that,” Seungcheol reiterates, turning to Jeonghan. “Is my hair okay?”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t like him, why does it matter?”

“Just – shut the fuck up and tell me I look good.”

“You look good,” Jeonghan deadpans, attention already on his phone. Seungcheol feels ridiculous, dressed in his nicest long-sleeved shirt that he knows shows off his collarbones and his pair of ripped jeans that aren’t as badly ripped.

“Be sincere,” Seungcheol insists, feeling like he's on the brink of a mental breakdown. “Oh my god, I'm so nervous.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, turning to Jisoo, who's equally ignoring Seungcheol in favour of his phone (probably texting Taehyung again, not that he'd admit it or that he'd need to). “He doesn't like him, he says,” he sighs.

Jisoo – sweet, loyal Jisoo who’s always on Seungcheol's side – rolls his eyes as well. “I wish he'd just admit it,” Jisoo – evil, traitorous Jisoo who has turned his back on Seungcheol – states.

Seungcheol's jaw drops. He thinks he can feel it on the floor. “You hypocrite,” he sputters. “I'm not taking that kind of shit from _you_.”

Jisoo just shoots him another dry look that’s vaguely reminiscent of Junhui’s bitch face. He fucking hates everyone for corrupting Jisoo. Seungcheol no longer has anyone he can trust in this group.

There's a knock on the door and the three of them turn. Seungkwan is in the doorway, grinning like the cat that caught the canary and still got cream for dessert.

“Your date’s here,” the younger vocalist says gleefully. “And he’s – man, you’ve got to see this for yourself!”

Seungkwan happens to feed off the misery of others, so this can't mean anything good for Seungcheol’s heart.

Seungcheol takes the jacket Jisoo holds out, nearly choking on his tongue when he sees Min Yoongi, awkwardly waiting in the hallway with a small bouquet of flowers in hand.

“They cost a fuckton,” Yoongi says lamely, holding them out to Seungcheol limply. When Seungcheol doesn't respond, the elder shifts his weight. “‘Cause it’s winter,” he adds. The bouquet shivers. “Just – god, just take it already.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes, taking it from the Bangtan member before he spontaneously combusts. His face is red, as is Seungcheol’s. Jisoo elbows the leader and he stutters out a thank you.

Yoongi is… dressed nicely. He's still got sneakers on, but his jeans are rip-free and his T-shirt looks new under the well-worn plaid over shirt. There’s a cap jammed almost sulkily onto Yoongi’s head, but his hair looks neat underneath.

“You look nice,” Yoongi mutters, cheeks turning pink the longer Seungcheol gapes. He hears the shutter of a phone camera going off, followed by Seungkwan hissing Hansol's name and a loud smack.

“You too,” Seungcheol wheezed, hiding behind his hand. “Let's just go. This is _so embarrassing._ ”

“Flowers – he got hyung flowers!” Seungcheol hears Chan crow, right before the door shuts.

The intense embarrassment has Seungcheol squatting, attempting to bury his face into his knees and disappear forever. “They're so embarrassing,” he whines into his bare knees, blush darkening when Yoongi chuckles and pats his shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” the elder rapper says nonchalantly. “Come on, I'm starving. You promised me dinner.”

The walk to the Chinese restaurant SEVENTEEN usually frequents is quiet. Seungcheol doesn't know what to say; his tongue feels too big in his mouth and every conversation topic he thinks of sounds juvenile. He wants to set himself on fire and drown in the Han river at the same time. Yoongi’s constantly looking at his buzzing phone, frowning slightly and it's probably the worst date he's ever been on, and they're only eight minutes in.

“We’re here,” Seungcheol chokes out when they stop in front of the familiar shop front. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, but Seungcheol ducks in and holds the door open before the former can protest.

The ahjumma in charge is halfway through a welcoming greeting when she notices Seungcheol and lets out a surprised exclamation.

“You came in today,” she titters, waddling out from behind the counter to clasp the leader’s hand and pinch his cheeks. “The last time you came here was a lifetime ago! I'm not getting any younger, you know.”

_A lifetime ago_ was in fact last week, if you don't count the other times he orders from her restaurant to feed all twelve of his children and himself, but he supposes it's a long time for her. They used to come in every day when they were trainees, because she used to give them extra side dishes without charge and doted on Chan like he was her own grandson. In a way, being the son of two successful Chinese restaurant owners back home, he supposes Chan could possibly be the future grandson of most Chinese restaurant owners.

Before Seungcheol can get a word in, she sets her sights on Yoongi, who's lingering awkwardly in the doorway. “And who is this? This isn't one of your hooligans.”

Seungcheol chuckles at the fond endearment for his mess of a group, placing a hand between Yoongi’s shoulder blades and pushing him forward a little.

“This is a sunbae I wanted to treat today,” he says. There's a knowing glint in the ahjumma’s eyes that has Seungcheol break out in a cold sweat, but she doesn't do anything other than cluck her tongue and usher them in, commenting on how thin they are.

“Especially you,” she scolds, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder. It's comical, the way Yoongi’s eyes widen as he turns to the woman almost assaulting him. “Don't they feed you at your big, fancy companies?” She reaches over, ruffling Seungcheol's hair and promising to feed them a lot of food.

Yoongi looks scandalized, holding the shoulder the ahjumma had hit. “Is she always like this?” he asks, voice low so she doesn't hear.

“Usually,” Seungcheol laughs, handing Yoongi a set of utensils. Their hands brush and Seungcheol nearly drops Yoongi's chopsticks, face heating up as apologies spill out of his mouth.

Yoongi's smile is crooked, gums on display as he watches Seungcheol flail. “This is the weirdest date I've been on,” the elder snorts with a shake of his head.

Seungcheol huffs, pouring him some water ( _he’s not used to being the younger one, so it's taking some getting used to_ ). “How would you know?” he grumbles. “You don’t go on dates.”

Yoongi shrugs. “You’re right. This is still a pretty weird date.”

“I’m paying for dinner. I don’t think you have the right to complain.”

“Ah, but you’re the one apologising to me, so at least make it better.”

The moonlight hits Yoongi then, turning his dark hair (that’s visible, at least) silver. His eyes twinkle dully, the curve of his lips aggravating and alluring at the same time. Seungcheol blinks and the moment is gone, but it lingers in his mind.

“The flowers were really pretty,” Seungcheol says quietly, looking away out of embarrassment. He props his chin in his hand, using it to cover his mouth so he doesn’t look so sheepish. “You didn’t have to.”

Pink bleeds into Yoongi’s pale cheeks. The elder fiddles with the cap, finally taking it off. Seungcheol was right – Yoongi’s hair _is_ neat, but effortlessly so. “Don't mention it,” he says gruffly. It sounds like he means it.

“You're not as tough as everyone says,” Seungcheol says teasingly. He's a little more comfortable now, since Yoongi is in his territory. It's the elder that's thrown off-balance this time.

“I am plenty tough,” Yoongi argues, but Seungcheol finds it a little less hard to believe. Not when the bouquet had been so carefully picked – and it _had_ been picked, filled with too many different flowers to be a generic bouquet made by a florist in some random flower shop.

“You don't have to act so tough around me.”

“I'm not acting.”

Seungcheol doesn't reply immediately, scrutinizing Yoongi. The elder shifts, running his fingers through his neat hair. His hair looks gently tousled now, stray strands sticking up weirdly.

“Suit yourself,” Seungcheol says, getting in the last word as the ahjumma appears with full bowls of jjajangmyeon. She promises to bring more sides, ruffling Seungcheol's hair when he puts up a token protest.

“You don't have to act so responsible around me either,” Yoongi murmurs, twirling the dark noodles around his chopsticks. Seungcheol's hand stills, an unreadable expression on his face as Yoongi glances up from underneath his fringe. “Just… be a kid. I'll be the responsible one. Then I'll learn not to act so tough around you.”

The leader takes a bite of his noodle and chews slowly, mulling over Yoongi's words. He swallows, smiling at the other.

“Okay,” he says. It's nothing concrete, but there's an imperceptible shift in the atmosphere. Yoongi lets out a sigh, shoulders loosening. Seungcheol feels some tension in his back disappear and he actually has _fun_.

Yoongi waits outside after the meal, promising to pay for the tteokbokki they're getting after.

“You make a lovely couple,” the restaurant ahjumma comments, pinching Seungcheol's cheek as she hands him his change (which is more than he should get back). “Better than the rest of the hooligans.”

“We’re just friends,” he chuckles, kissing her on the cheek with a wordless promise to come back with the rest of SEVENTEEN next time. “Thank you for the meal.”

She waves him away, a fond look in her eyes as she watches Seungcheol and Yoongi walk off, the distance between them smaller than when they first arrived.

_Couple._

Seungcheol tosses the word around in his mind for a little while, then puts it aside. It's an interesting concept, but one he doesn't have to consider for a while. That's fine.

After all, he's not sure if he quite likes Min Yoongi just yet.

 

 

Jeonghan is critical, but he's critical of almost every aspect of everyone else’s life.

“What do you mean you're not dating?” Jeonghan demands, slamming his shot glass onto the table. The glass lets out a shriek of protest at being mishandled.

Jisoo shrugs, spinning his half-empty shot glass. “We’re not.”

The ninety-five liners have snuck away, leaving the responsibility with Wonwoo and Junhui while they spend a couple hours on the rooftop, getting shit-faced drunk and talking about their problems (which translates to Jeonghan nagging at Jisoo and Seungcheol about their non-existent love lives and complaining about dating a baby who goes by the name of Lee Jongchan). Today, Seungcheol’s in the clear because he's _made progress_ with Yoongi, whatever that means.

“But I saw you kiss!” Jeonghan exclaims, pretty face scrunched up in displeasure.

“You kissed?” That's news to Seungcheol, not that he's surprised he's the last to know. “And you're still not dating?”

Jisoo shrugs, emptying his glass and pouring himself another one. This time, he downs the whole thing in one swallow, wincing at the burn. “It's complicated.”

“It's bullshit, that's what it is,” Jeonghan grumbles.

Jisoo rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is looking to a relationship, Jeonghan.”

“Maybe not everyone,” Jeonghan concedes, “but _you_ are.”

“He isn't.”

Seungcheol feels like a spectator; here, but not really. He doesn't feel as invested in Jisoo's love life as Jeonghan is ( _he’s generally not that nosy, anyway_ ).

“Lay off him,” Seungcheol says when he notices the displeased twist of Jisoo’s lips. “They're doing fine. Taehyung’ll pull his head out of his ass eventually.”

“You deserve better,” Jeonghan sighs, but drops it. “Hey, Cheol, you going out with lover boy any time soon?”

“We’re not dating,” Seungcheol snorts.

Jeonghan throws his hands up in defeat. “Both of you are hopeless!”

Seungcheol huffs, filling his shot glass and swigging the last dregs of soju straight from the bottle. “I don't even know if I like him that much.”

The rapper carefully doesn't mention the way he stares at Yoongi sometimes, between their _Boom Boom_ promotions and Bangtan wrapping up for _Blood, Sweat, Tears_ , when they steal a moment of time together for coffee or lamb skewers. He doesn't tell them how he lays awake at night, body exhausted but mind still replaying the gentle way Yoongi brushes Seungcheol's hair out of his eyes, or the way his tongue looks against sinfully pink lips and how soft they might (or might not) feel against his own.

“At least I know I like Taehyung,” Jisoo mutters under his breath.

“Kindly fuck off, thanks,” Seungcheol answers breezily, opening another bottle of soju. He downs his shot, then pours himself another.

Jeonghan’s picking at the bag of chips Jisoo brought up, movements already sloppy from alcohol. Jisoo’s still going strong, but Seungcheol’s halfway to tipsy, having drunk the most.

“You're both emotionally constipated goldfish,” Jeonghan snorts. “It's pathetic.”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol says a pathetically. His head feels light, all thoughts of responsibility and adulthood leaving him momentarily. “We’re not the ones dating an actual baby.”

“Chan’s only four years younger than us,” Jeonghan huffs, squinting at Seungcheol. “Fuck _you_ , you overgrown chimpanzee.”

Seungcheol's response is to knock back more soju. The burn is pleasant – has always been pleasant. His limbs are loose, the leader losing feeling at the tips of his fingers. He smacks his lips together, licking them just to make sure they’re still there.

“I don't think he likes me,” Jisoo says, staring up at the starless sky. “You know, Taehyung laughed after he kissed me. Said it was fun and we should do it again. Casual-like.” The pain is obvious on the American boy’s face, even through the haze of alcohol. “I was the stupid one for thinking it meant something.”

“S’not stupid,” Seungcheol manages to say through uncooperative lips. He thinks he's frowning, but he's not sure. He can't really feel his face. “I'd kiss you and mean it.”

“Me too,” Jeonghan agrees loudly. His voice echoes off the rooftop and bounces off into space. “You're, like, stupidly cute.”

“Cute,” Jisoo echoes hollowly.

“And attractive,” Seungcheol adds. Sadness is not a good look on Jisoo, he decides. It reminds him of the day after evaluation when the maknae of the ninety-five line had thought he was going to be cut from the team. “Your face is super hot. You've got the fuck-me eyes and lips that could make a nun sin.”

“Seungcheol.” Jisoo’s lips curve upwards faintly. “I'm gayer than a bag of rainbow skittles.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, waving a hand dismissively. He miscalculated the momentum of his hand and nearly tips over. “Lips that'll make a priest sin, I don't fucking know what you gay people want.”

“You're gay too, what the fuck,” Jeonghan states, eyebrows scrunching together.

“I'm, like, short-angry-person sexual.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth to argue, then re-evaluates. “Yeah. Did you ever have a crush on Jonghyun?”

“Jonghyun would rather choke on Minhyun’s dick than date me.” Translation: yes, he did and it was fucking embarrassing. He has a flashback to how hard he came when he imagined Jonghyun, dressed in his outfit from the _Face_ music video shooting and pinning him against the wall, whispering dirty things in his low voice. Seungcheol shudders, shaking his head to rid himself of the image before he does something embarrassing – like pop a boner. “I don't know if I like Yoongi hyung.”

“You're fucking hopeless,” Jisoo snorts and Seungcheol is a little too drunk to care that their Gentleman Joshua is swearing.

“He's got pretty lips though.” The words are spilling out now, as he pictures Yoongi in his mind’s eye. “And he's, like, shorter than me. I bet if I hugged him, he'd fit nice and snug in my arms.”

Jeonghan perks up, while Jisoo silently holds up his phone. The latter must be really drunk if he needs to hold the phone up that high to see it.

“Do you want to?” Jeonghan asks, pouring more soju into Seungcheol's empty glass (even though he doesn’t remember emptying it). “Hug him, I mean.”

Seungcheol nods vigorously, holding onto the table edge so he doesn't fall over. “He looks like he'd be soft to hug.” He lets out a sigh then, sipping his soju thoughtfully. “But I don't think his lips are soft. Hyung probably doesn't moisturize. He’s still got really pretty lips, though.”

“So you’ve said,” Jeonghan snickers.

“I’d like to kiss them,” Seungcheol announces after a brief pause. “Just to know if they’re soft like the rest of him. His hands are kinda soft. He plays the piano, so they’re nice. Really pretty hands. Hyung is really pretty.”

“Please tell me you’re getting all this,” Jeonghan wheezes, tears in his eyes. Seungcheol tilts his head in confusion, bringing his shot glass up to his lips absently; he doesn’t remember anything sad happening in the last couple minutes for Jeonghan to start crying.

Jisoo smirks, smoothing down Seungcheol’s unruly hair. “Every single second. Get him to talk more, Hannie. This is going to be good.”

 

[3:41 a.m.]

**To: Yoongi hyung**

_Hye yuuo_

**From: Yoongi hyung**

_???_

_kid?_

**To: Yoongi hyung**

_Hyuuuuunnnngggg_

_Why tf aer u so preyytt????_

_Why so pryyet_

_What for_

_For woh_

**From: Yoongi hyung**

_aer u drunk rgiht now_

**To: Yoongi hyung**

_Aer ut lips soft hyung_

_I wnnan knwo_

_Is it sotf liek the rest of yuo_

_Hyuuuuunnnnngggggggg_

_Yoonyoon hyuuuuunnnnggggggg_

_hyuuuunnnnnggggiiiiiiieeeeeee_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_jfc go to fucking sleep before you say something you’ll regret_

_i have to get back to work_

**To: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_Nooooo dont gooooooo_

_;(_

_Why od yuo hurt me hyungie_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_what_

**To: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_U hurt me_

_Sopr etty_

_Wyh so preyte_

_Preytr_

_Pretty_

_It hrtus to look_

_Uhurt me_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_i’m sorry i hurt you_

**To: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_I wsnna hold u hyungie_

_Aer ur lips sotf_

_Can cheollie fidn out_

_Yoonyoon hyungie_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_don’t call me that_

**To: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_R u mad hyugnie_

_Dno”t be mad ta ne_

_I’m ssortt_

_ﾟ_ _(_ _ﾟ_ _இ_ _‸_ _இ_ _ﾟ_ _)_ _ﾟ_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_i’m not mad_

_go to sleep_

_drink water and take some tylenol_

**To: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_(_ _／_ _・_ _ω_ _・_ _)_ _／_

_Awwwww hyungie cares_

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_of course i care u idiot_

_how could i not?_

 

[5:26 a.m.]

**From: Yoonyoon hyugn**

_u noe kid_

_u’re not the only one who’s hurting_

_u’re v pretty too_


	3. Drunk Texting Is A Bad Idea (seriously)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seungcheol develops Feelings and everyone has a solution that he refuses to take. On another note, Jisoo is having Relationship Problems and somehow thinks turning to his fellow ninety-five liners will help.

The next morning, Seungcheol contemplates throwing himself into an active volcano, then realises he can’t even move his head without pain coursing through every single nerve-ending he owns.

“You’re awake,” Jihoon says, not looking up from his phone. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

“Kill me,” Seungcheol croaks, pulling his blanket over his face. “Fuck.”

“We have practice later,” Jihoon adds helpfully. Seungcheol braves rolling over so he can mumble expletives into his pillow.

“What time is it?” he groans into his pillow.

“Eleven.”

More curses from Seungcheol. The elder sits up slowly, cursing past-Seungcheol for his mistakes. He reaches for his phone blindly, plucking it from Jihoon’s hand tiredly. Sure enough, the time emblazoned on his screen says _11.37 a.m_. God, he hates so many things right now.

He unlocks his phone, then freezes. Dread slides down his spine, chilly and unwelcome.

His phone’s KakaoTalk app is open.

“Oh no,” he whispers. Jihoon peers down at the elder’s phone, eyebrows disappearing into his fringe.

“It wasn't me,” Jihoon says reflexively. “Who'd you text?”

Seungcheol’s mouth goes dry as he reads the messages he sent, cringing at the nickname he had given Yoongi. He smashes his face into his pillow, wondering if he'd suffocate and die easy this way.

“Fuck me,” he moans. He feels the weight of Jihoon’s hand as he pats his back.

“Sorry, I have a boyfriend.” There's a hint of amusement in the young producer’s voice.

Seungcheol flips his best friend off remorselessly, reaching back to bat the younger away.

“Vanish, demon,” he grumbles. “Let me die in peace.”

Jihoon chortles. “Okay, hyung. But… you might want to check out the group chat. Just saying.” There’s an amused lilt to Jihoon's voice that never means anything good for Seungcheol. The elder misses the days when his group members respected him (only to realise there’s never really been a moment where they all respected him as anything other than a well-meaning hyung).

He grumbles under his breath, exiting his chat with Yoongi ( _he saved him as Yoonyoon hyung what the actual fuck_ ) so he can deal with it at a later time – preferably once his hangover dies down.

The first thing he sees is a screenshot from a video – and it seems to be of Seungcheol.

He can already feel his migraine worsening, but he powers through the messages. The screenshot – courtesy of Mingyu – reads _Yoongi hyung’s so pretty I could die!_ All it takes is watching thirty seconds of the video – _oh god, Seungcheol was waxing poetry about Yoongi’s fucking_ fingers _and it wasn't even sexual_ – to realise Mingyu’s just quoting himself and – honestly, Seungcheol’s contemplating a mass homicide that ends in suicide.

“You're gonna die,” Seungcheol mutters to himself, mustering the strength to roll out of bed so he can hunt down Mingyu and Jisoo.

Before he can engage homicidal mode, his phone rings, scaring the shit out of him. His already clumsy, hungover body jolts, unable to find equilibrium in time. He tilts forward, then keeps tilting as he crashes into the floor, body formed in an awkward half-roll. Through it all, his phone rings, blaring _Mansae_ at full volume.

**Yoonyoon hyugn is calling!**

Fuck.

As much as Seungcheol dreads the call, it'll be worse if he ignores it, so he only hesitates for a quick second before he's swiping his thumb against his phone screen to answer.

“Hello?” he croaks into the phone, acutely aware of how shitty he sounds.

“ _You sound like crap._ ”

Yoongi is as eloquent as ever, he sees. “Well, good morning to you too, hyung.”

“ _Aw, you're not going to call me hyungie?_ ” Yoongi teases. Seungcheol groans, cheeks flooding with colour. He just wants to stop existing.

“Hyung,” he whines, pressing his cheek to the floor in an attempt to disappear forever. “I'm hungover and in pain. Take some pity on me.”

“ _You're an idiot_ ,” Yoongi says instead. Seungcheol can picture the smug smirk that's probably curving his hyung’s pretty lips now. “ _Don’t read the messages you send me. You talk a lot of shit when you're drunk._ ”

Seungcheol groans. “I _know_. I'm so sorry, hyung. I don't usually…” He bites his lip. He doesn't usually… what? Jeonghan always tells him he's more honest when he's drunk, which is how the vocalist had found out about Seungcheol's crush on Jihoon in the first place, way back whenever.

“ _It’s alright, kid_ ,” he hears Yoongi say. “ _I get it_.”

The awkwardness lingers. There's nothing else to be said. This is meant to be a short call, but Seungcheol doesn't want to hang up. He wants to keep listening to Yoongi's voice, hear the gruff tones of Yoongi speaking in Daegu dialect even if Seungcheol doesn't dare return the favour.

“So I… shouldn't read the messages I sent you?” he says after a minute that stretches into forever.

“ _Yeah… don’t. You’ll just embarrass yourself._ ” The words are suspended in the air, almost as if there are more that should follow, but the train of conversation ends there. “ _I have to go. Are you free after practice? There’s this new cafe that Taehyung says has really nice cakes._ ”

“Yeah, okay.” The bubbles start in Seungcheol's chest again. Before he can reign in his words, he finds himself saying, “It’s a date.”

Seungcheol doesn't wait to hear Yoongi’s reply before he hangs up.

 

 

“I said it's a date,” Seungcheol moans into the hardwood floor of the practice room. They've been at it for four hours now, but Seungcheol’s mind is still wrapped around his idiotic words from this morning. His hangover has been curbed by a greasy breakfast and copious amounts of Tylenol, but it can only sustain him for so long.

“What's hyung whining about this time?” Wonwoo sighs, sweaty hair hanging in his eyes.

“Something stupid he said to his future husband,” Jeonghan sighs dramatically, flicking his hair out of his face. The sweat-drenched locks refuse to comply. “Dramatic piece of shit.”

“Do I have to keep reminding you guys _I'm the leader of this group of piss babies_?” Seungcheol says sullenly, curling into himself further.

“Yes,” Jeonghan, Wonwoo and even Chan chime together.

“We’ll stop needing reminders when you stop whining like a baby,” the maknae adds.

Seungcheol glowers at Jeonghan. “You've corrupted yet another innocent soul. I hate you.”

“You're a coward that's too emotionally constipated to realise you have feelings for Yoongi,” Jeonghan retorts, carding his fingers through Chan’s hair. The youngest melts with a nearly inaudible purr. “At least _I_ can tell Channie I love him.”

Seungcheol hates couples. He hates seeing the way Chan lights up at the simple confession. It's not a new revelation; they've been dating going on two years now, taking baby steps because Chan is young and he still has his whole life ahead of him. Jeonghan, for all his brusqueness with the rest of the group, is unbearably tender with Chan. It's sickening and Seungcheol wishes he had someone to look after him like that.

He can hear Jihoon’s quiet murmurs as he talks to Jimin on the phone. Bangtan is probably between practice rounds as well, so the two of them are stealing a quick conversation together. Jimin takes some of the pressure off Jihoon, letting him go at the pace he wants – however fast or slow that may be. There's this novelty to their relationship, something that lingers even though they're going on three months now. It's sweet and Seungcheol _aches_.

Then there's Jisoo, who's so obviously suffering. He hasn't texted Taehyung all day, even though his phone has been buzzing incessantly. He's steadfastly ignoring the boy he crushes on, working through the pain just so he can ignore it for a little bit more. It hurts to see Jisoo like this, because Seungcheol’s been there before and he's not willing to do it again.

“Well, I _am_ scared,” Seungcheol declares, turning to Jeonghan with a determined gaze. “I don't want to end up broken at the end of this.”

“It's not always going to end bad,” Jeonghan says lowly, even though it contradicts Seungcheol's past history with the short angry people he's ever given his heart to.

“It's not always going to end well either,” Seungcheol retorts. “We’re fine the way we are now, Hannie. Why push for something that will crumble?”

Jeonghan’s mouth twists. “Because it might make you happy, for once.”

Ah, but Jeonghan’s operating under the assumption that Seungcheol wants to be happy. He knows better than that.

 

The next night, Jisoo is the one dragging them up to the rooftop, a six-pack of soju dangling from his fingers. There’s an inexplicable look on his face that means nothing good.

“Jisoo?” Seungcheol says tentatively, wincing when Jisoo shoulders the rooftop door open.

“I'm fine,” the American snaps, shoulders tense and gaze haunted. He looks unsettled like his entire world has been turned on its axis. Seungcheol has noticed a significant decrease in Jisoo’s texting (it's hard not to notice when he's in charge of all of them and _has_ to know what's going on at all times) and an increase in his irritability.

Jeonghan, unperturbed by the change in Jisoo’s behaviour, settles into his designated spot and twists a bottle of soju open, pouring it for all of them. Jeonghan’s barely pulled the bottle away before Jisoo is downing the shot, already asking for another.

“Slow down, cowboy,” Jeonghan says wryly even as he fills Jisoo’s glass. “I'm still haunted by this morning’s hangover.”

“Boys are stupid,” Jisoo says in reply, making a face as the soju slides down his throat. “I hate boys. I'm going back to girls.”

“You used to think you were straight?” Jeonghan mocks, clutching his chest.

Jisoo scowls. “Seriously, fuck you, Jeonghan.”

Seungcheol sips his soju, scrutinizing Jisoo carefully. He thinks there are tear tracks on the vocalist’s cheeks. “Did you and Taehyung have a fight?”

“Fuck him too,” Jisoo spits, looking more hurt than angry. “I hate him.”

“You don't mean that,” Jeonghan says. He rests a hand on Jisoo's bony shoulder. “You could never.”

“I want to.” Jisoo’s voice cracks, tears welling in his eyes. “He so fucking _stupid_. Can't he tell I like him? Fucktard.”

“Daegu men aren't the brightest,” Jeonghan says with a pointed glance towards the leader. Seungcheol pointedly ignores the look, choosing to spin his shot glass in slow circles instead. “They're all confoundingly stupid when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“In my defence,” Seungcheol says loudly, “I’m just being cautious. I always fuck shit up, Jeonghan.”

“You could at least admit you like him, dickwad,” Jeonghan retorts with a graceful flick of his middle finger. “How old are you, twelve?”

Seungcheol reaches for the bottle, pouring himself and Jisoo another shot. “I never aged past fifteen, actually,” he answers blithely, smiling at Jeonghan in his own special way of saying _fuck you._ “Sorry we can't all date babies.”

“Sorry we can't all date,” Jisoo adds on mournfully, already pouring himself another shot. He looks like he's contemplating swigging from the bottle. “Maybe I should just date you, Cheol. You'd probably treat me better. You'd mean it if you kiss me, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Seungcheol answers, but he'd never kiss Jisoo – nothing against the American. He's not sure if he likes Yoongi, but he thinks he likes the elder rapper just enough to not go around kissing his own band members.

“But you won't kiss me.”

“Eh.”

Jisoo’s expression falls. “No one wants me,” he laments.

“It’s not your fault,” Jeonghan assures him. “Seungcheol's in love with Yoongi hyung; he just doesn't know it yet.”

Seungcheol’s mouth twists into a frown. “ _Love_ ’s a strong word.” It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. What does he know about love? All Yoongi gives him is butterflies in his stomach and a light head. He makes his heart beat faster and his palms sweat – but is that love? Or is that simply infatuation?

The word _love_ settles weirdly in Seungcheol’s chest. It's a weird concept he can't grasp. His phone buzzes and it's Yoongi, complaining about dance practice and preparations for their world tour. He thinks his heart beats a little faster, but it could be from the alcohol, for all he knows.

“You just… feel too much,” Jeonghan says, not unkindly. His voice softens, although he smacks the leader’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. “You’re not usually this cautious.”

“I don’t usually like someone so out of my league.”

“Jihoon was pretty out of your league,” Jisoo muses, words slurring together as he finishes off the first bottle of soju. “He’s much cuter than you.”

“Fuck off. _I’m_ out of Jihoon’s league,” Seungcheol huffs. “I’m way hotter.”

Jisoo and Jeonghan let out synchronised snorts. It’s official – everyone is against him. There is not a single person on his side.

“You’re in Yoongi hyung’s league, though,” Jisoo says quietly.

Seungcheol barks out a laugh, swallowing down the cynicism. “Maybe in a different life, yeah.”

 

Seungcheol wants to kiss Yoongi.

He _really_ wants to kiss Yoongi.

After drinking five shots of soju and watching his two friends get stupid drunk on the rest of the pilfered alcohol, he had gone to bed feeling quiet and discontented. When he woke up the next morning at six, Jihoon’s alarm blaring in his ear, he vaguely remembered the sensation of pink, pursed lips pressed against his own. His tired mind had somehow conjured up a pink dusting against pale cheeks and moonlight in black hair. An ache settles in his rib cage; Seungcheol can't remember the last time he wanted something so much.

The leader turns when the lump of blankets on the floor moves, a slight arm venturing out of the warmth to scrabble for the alarm still blaring _Fronting_ in his ear.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung,” Jihoon groans, muffled from the sheer number of layers bundled on top of him. “Fucking fuck full of fuckballs. _Fuck_.”

The phone clatters to the ground noisily. Jeonghan threatens murder in his sleep.

“Son of a bitch,” the producer mutters.

“Jihoonie,” Seungcheol calls out, voice scratchy from sleep, “you swear too much. Should I set up a swear jar?”

“Shut up,” Jihoon groans, swatting at Seungcheol’s stomach. “Who set the alarm?”

“You.”

“… Fuck me.”

“Call your boyfriend.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeonghan groans, tossing his pillow in their general direction. He's fast asleep in a minute, quiet snores filling the room once more.

“Jihoon?” Seungcheol calls out again. He gets an answering hum in reply. “Do you think Yoongi hyung could like me?”

Jihoon pauses in his grumbling. “It's not that hard to believe,” the younger says after a while. “The only one who can't believe it is you.”

Seungcheol mulls over the words silently. “I thought you liked me,” he says before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

Jihoon goes still, shoulders tensing. The atmosphere freezes too, the elder’s words lingering awkwardly in the air.

For best friends, they're pretty shit at talking about feelings. It's not like Seungcheol spends his days moaning about the relationship that could've been, but he thinks that it's starting to hold him back a little.

“I did too,” Jihoon admits quietly. There's sorrow in his eyes when he turns to Seungcheol. “We could've been great.”

“I think so too,” Seungcheol agrees, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he looks at the first love of his life. “But you're happy now.”

And he is. Jihoon _glows_ when he talks about Jimin, even if it's just a throwaway line like _yeah, hyung’s okay_ or _hyung treats me okay, don't worry about it_. He acts like he has butterflies and pterodactyls and all kinds of flying animals in his stomach when he so much as looks at Jimin and it's so heart-breaking, because Jihoon looked at him that way once. It's heart-breaking but he's not bitter because Jimin is good for Jihoon, even if he made the younger cry and feel like he was too good for everyone else.

Jihoon shoots him a smile – a wry, tired little thing that's more full of regret than bitterness. “But you're not,” he says softly.

“I have a good life.” He does; he has the team and his career, not to mention a loving family back in Daegu that supports him in everything he does. He has the fans and the management on his side, as well as his fellow leaders. He even has a friend-slash-mentor in Yoongi. It should be enough.

“You could have better,” Jihoon points out.

Seungcheol stares at the bottom of Mingyu’s bunk, hearing the creak of the bed as the younger rapper tosses and turns in his sleep.

“I don't need _better_ ,” he says decisively, even though he thinks it'd be nice to have Yoongi look at him the way Jimin looks at Jihoon – or even the way Seungcheol used to look at Jihoon.

He'd like to have a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on at the end of a long day of leading a bratty group of pissbabies. He wants to nap in the dying afternoon light with Yoongi, the elder’s fingers lazily carding through his hair. It might be nice, spending evenings in Yoongi's studio and listening to him mix music. It'll be like dating Jihoon, but maybe with a little bit more colour in his life.

He stops the train of thought before it unwinds further. There's no use wishing for something that can't be, he tells himself firmly, shutting his eyes so Jihoon won't try and talk more sense into him.

There's a rustle of fabric as Jihoon forces himself up; probably heading to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Seungcheol counts the steps, frowning slightly when they stop five steps before Jihoon should reach the door.

“Hyung,” Jihoon says softly. Seungcheol doesn't respond, hoping the younger will believe he's asleep – or at least pretend he is. Jihoon continues anyway, undeterred by the lack of response. “You know, just because you don't need better doesn't mean you don't deserve it.”

 

 

It's been a week since Seungcheol last replied Yoongi.

He could cite practice, recordings or the general management of twelve boys for the lack of replies, but it’s all a load of bullshit. He had texted Yoongi more frequently when he was busier. He blames all the sudden free time for his sudden disappearance. It gives him time to think and unfortunately for Yoongi, Seungcheol has a penchant for overthinking things.

He picks apart a relationship they don't even have, magnifying faults and shoving aside good points, burying them under all the bad things that could happen. He picks and picks at the cracks until they become huge gaping holes he can't ignore. He stares into the abyss and it stares back – wedging itself between Seungcheol and Yoongi until they cease to walk parallel paths.

He doesn't know what hurts more: pulling away from Yoongi or seeing the elder let him.

“They're having a comeback next week,” Jihoon comments. Seungcheol knows he's been distracted; this time was supposed to be for them to just mess around in the recording studio, but he's been picking at everything wrong a hypothetical relationship could have.

“Who?” Seungcheol asks, even though it's obvious who Jihoon is talking about.

Jihoon continues on, ignoring Seungcheol's stubbornness with his own. “Jimin hyung dyed his hair pink. It looks good on him. I can't wait to see him backstage again.” The producer tilts his head. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” the elder scoffs, picking at the bread Junhui had thoughtfully packed for them. “I don't care.”

Jihoon drums his fingers on the table. “Jimin hyung says you've been avoiding Yoongi hyung – ”

A scowl settles on Seungcheol's lips. “ _Jimin_ can mind his own fucking business.”

“You've been avoiding hyung,” Jihoon raises his voice, “and you've been moody lately. Did you have a lover's quarrel – ”

Something in Seungcheol snaps; a fragile string he's been so carefully trying to keep from fraying. “Stop saying that,” he hisses. The hostility in his voice has Jihoon's jaw clicking shut. “It's _not_ a lover's quarrel. We’re not lovers. We never _will be_ lovers. Stop shoving goddamn _love_ down my throat. I don't fucking _want it_.”

Seungcheol’s skin crawls. His stomach roils and he shoves the bread away, uncaring as it nearly slides off the table. _Love_ leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. All he can hear past the rushing of blood in his ears is the careful list of _can never be_ s that he's so carefully curated.

Jihoon’s eyes are cold as Seungcheol meets his gaze. “What you are,” he says evenly, “is a fuck-ass coward who runs when you get scared. You always do this, hyung. _Always_. I'm sick and tired of watching you run from people. You could finally be happy, but you don't want it because you're so fucking scared of failure.”

“I'm leaving,” Seungcheol announces, deciding it's better to leave before he does something he regrets – like punch his best friend.

Seungcheol wishes Min Yoongi had never walked into his life. Maybe then, he'd be able to actually _live_.

 

[12:09 a.m.]

**From: Min Yoongi**

_did i do sometjing wtong_

_i:m sorry_

_i cant sleep at nihht_

_all i can think aboit is u_

**To: Min Yoongi**

_Stop. U’re drunk. Don’t say something u’ll regret in the morning_

**From: Min Yoongi**

_im not drunk_

_im sad_

_maybe a lil drunk_

_but mostly sad_

_i know you’re reading this_

_the lil dots are disappearing_

_if i said something wrong, i’m sorry_

_i do that a lot_

_say things wrong, i mean_

_i always hurt the people i care about_

_i can't help but push people away_

_i think it's my personality_

_i was hoping I wouldn't hurt you too, but i fucked that one up royally_

_please don't hate me_

**To: Min Yoongi**

_Pls stop_

**From: Min Yoongi**

_okay_

_i’ll stop talking to you if it makes you happy_

_i’d do anything to make u happy, just so u know_

_take care of yourself, choi seungcheol_


	4. Getting It Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bangtan and SEVENTEEN have a brief meeting backstage. Seungcheol is subject to an Intervention and Yoongi and Seungcheol text again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it, people. this chapter is possibly the shortest one yet (talk about poor planning), but it also (hopefully) ties up a lot of loose ends.
> 
> this isn't the last fic in the series, but i don't know when i'll update again. until then, i'm always available on [twitter](https://twitter.com/serraminiauthor) or [tumblr](http://minteayoongimakesmewoozi.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> til next time, babes.

He dreads Bangtan’s comeback. As usual, it coincides with the last week of SEVENTEEN’s Boom Boom promotions. Jihoon is silently thrilled, Jisoo is blatantly agitated and Seungcheol… Seungcheol just wishes Yoongi had never run to their dorm that first night.

He tries not to think about the inevitable backstage meeting, trying his best to focus on their performance and corralling his team of children. Chan and Jeonghan stick close to each other, Jisoo letting himself be mothered by Junhui as he pretends he can’t hear Taehyung’s laugh as they walk the halls. Jisoo is hurting and Seungcheol is powerless to do anything about it. Idly, he toys with the idea of beating some sense into Taehyung, but that would mean going into Bangtan’s waiting room – where Yoongi probably is.

… Well, good intentions and all that. Jisoo may never know of the things Seungcheol is willing to do for him, but Seungcheol does.

He does a quick count of his members as they finish up their hair and makeup. Jihoon darts back into the waiting room just as Seungcheol finishes up his count. He nods to himself; for the first time in a while, no one’s missing when he does his count. He even remembered to count himself in this time.

Just as he’s about to gather the kids for a quick _hwaiting_ , the door to the waiting room slams open. Standing in the doorway, eyes laser-sharp and lips pressed into a thin line, is Kim Taehyung.

“You,” Taehyung growls, stalking towards Jisoo. The American looks vaguely cornered, eyes darting around the large room for an escape route. Before he can put his plan into action, Taehyung is on him – hands cupping his face oh so gently as he pulls him in for a kiss.

The hustle and bustle of the busy waiting room fade away as everyone in the room watches the scene unfold before them. Jisoo melts into the embrace for a quick second, before he’s pushing Taehyung away. Jisoo might have to go for a touch-up, Seungcheol thinks idly as the vocalist wipes at his lips with the back of his hand.

“What the hell, Taehyung,” Jisoo says quietly, every syllable laden with anger. Taehyung looks pained and defeated, but he marches on with a stubbornness Seungcheol can admire.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung starts, words stilted. He grabs Jisoo’s jacket lapels so he can’t run away ( _Jisoo’s always been a runner – both literally and figuratively_ ). “I’m _so_ fucking sorry that I made you think I didn’t care. I get it now. Jimin – he told me and _I get it_. You’re not just someone to warm my bed or someone to take my stress out on. I care about you. _I love you._ ”

Seungcheol’s heart pumps pain and longing into his bloodstream. Jisoo – strong-headed Jisoo with his American ideals and toughened heart – turns impossibly soft with every word that tumbles out of Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung’s a mess, syllables slurring and his Daegu satoori sliding in and out of his monologue. There’s something achingly beautiful about watching someone break because of someone they love.

“This isn’t going to fix everything,” Jisoo chokes out. His eyes are shiny with tears, but Jisoo is stronger than most people give him credit for. “You hurt me.”

“I know. You should punish me for it,” Taehyung adds quickly, nodding vigorously.

Jisoo lets out a watery laugh. “I will.” He lets his forehead touch Taehyung’s. Seungcheol thinks they’re both starting to glow. Just a little bit. “I’m going to put you through hell.”

Taehyung laughs. He grins, almost like he’ll enjoy every moment of it. “Okay. Yeah, okay. I can live with that.”

A tall man with purple hair comes crashing into the room then, shattering the K-Drama moment. “Taehyung,” he sighs, grabbing the vocalist by his collar and physically dragging him away from Jisoo. “Don’t run off like that!”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, letting himself be dragged away. He’s pouting, but it drops momentarily as he looks back at Jisoo. _Call me_ , he mouths, boxy grin returning as Jisoo hides a chuckle behind his hand. A coordi noona is leading Jisoo back to the makeup desks, but it doesn’t dull the red on his cheeks.

“How come we don’t have that?” Jeonghan asks. He’s probably teasing, but Chan lets out an exasperated sigh.

“We’re not breaking up just so you can have your drama-worthy moment, hyung.”

“Ugh. You’re no fun, Channie.”

 

 

“That was nice,” Jihoon comments.

Seungcheol shrugs. They’re heading back to the dorm now, the van suitably muted with how tired everyone is. He stares out the window, earphones dangling from his ear. He has one earbud out so he can hear Jihoon, but he doesn’t really want to talk.

Naturally, it has to be on the one night Jihoon decides to be uncharacteristically chatty. He’s still on his phone, but he seems more than content to have a one-sided conversation with Seungcheol.

“I’m glad Jisoo hyung forgave TaeTae hyung,” the producer continues. “Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t really care,” Seungcheol grunts, even though he does. He hates seeing Jisoo moping about.

“Of course you care.” Jihoon finally glances over, eyes brimming with fondness. “You always care too much. That’s why you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“I know you, hyung. You’re terrified. You’re also a coward.”

“I thought we were talking about Jisoo?” Seungcheol sighs. “Why do we always have to turn the conversation back to me and my non-problems?”

“Because we finally saw someone from Daegu man up and we were hoping the next one might be you,” Jeonghan chimes in, tugging Seungcheol’s earbud out of his ear. He wasn’t listening to anything, but he still doesn’t appreciate the interruption.

Seungkwan decides it’s the perfect moment to get into Seungcheol’s personal space as well. “It was fun watching you emotionally constipated at first, but now it’s just sad,” he adds.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He glances around the van – at Jihoon, Jeonghan, Seungkwan, Junhui and Mingyu. He’s starting to make the connections and by god, it’s a little infuriating.

“Is this an _intervention_?” he demands.

“Yes,” Mingyu answers without hesitation. Seungcheol grabs Seungkwan’s cap and throws it at his member’s face.

“Fuck off! I don’t need this right now!” He can’t even escape right now. They’re all evil masterminds and it’s a good thing they decided to go into entertainment instead of world domination.

“You really do,” Seungkwan insists, uncaring of the way his hair sits weirdly for once. He's actually serious about this. “Hyung, you're sad, moping about and you're practically in love with sunbae. The only one who can't see it is you and him, and that's only because you're pushing him away.” Almost to himself, Seungkwan adds, “That's not fair to him.”

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated sigh. “Butt out of our relationship,” he warns. “We’re grown men. We know what to do. I don’t need you kids to tell me how to be friends with someone.”

“But you don’t want to be _just friends_ with him,” Mingyu exclaims, shooting Seungcheol an aggravated frown. “Anyone with eyes can see how in love with Yoongi hyung you are. Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I’m not being stubborn!”

“Too much time around Jihoon,” Jeonghan suggests, snickering when said vocalist glares up at him. “Sorry, Jihoonie, but you know it’s true.”

“You can't make me talk to him,” Seungcheol says scathingly.

“But you should,” Mingyu insists. “Hyung, I've never seen you look at someone else the way you look at Yoongi hyung. Not since…” Seungcheol can tell he doesn't mean to, but Mingyu ends up glancing at Jihoon anyway.

“Not since me,” Jihoon finishes for him, eyes unbearably soft. “We lost so much time until we had none left. I don't want to see you go through that again.”

Seungcheol chest gets impossibly tight. One of his only regrets (other than not being a better grandson to his grandmother) is never finding out what him and Jihoon could have been. They had good chemistry – still do – but Seungcheol's fears have always overshadowed any feelings he might have.

“I can't – I don't know,” Seungcheol croaks, feeling raw and vulnerable. He's supposed to be the invincible and venerable leader, but he feels especially small and human before them. “I don't know if I – if _he_ – I can't.”

“Yes, you can,” Jeonghan says simply, finally pushing the van door open. He drags Seungcheol by the lapels of his jacket, until he's standing on his own. His legs feel weak, but he's still standing.

The others filter out, tripping over the lip of the door and surrounding him. They're solid pillars of encouragement; no judgement, just supporters in what could be the biggest mistake of Seungcheol’s life.

“Go to him,” Jihoon murmurs, gaze drawing Seungcheol’s even though they don't touch. “Say something before he's too far away.”

“What if – ” The eldest leader’s throat feels dry, like he swallowed a handful of sand just to find out what it tasted like.

“Oh my god, he _does_ ,” Seungkwan groans, grabbing Seungcheol by the shoulders and pushing him. “Just fucking _go_ already!”

Seungcheol doesn't know why, but he runs. His feet pound against the pavement and his heartbeat dictates his pace. He doesn't know if he's gasping from the sudden run or if he's just that nervous, but he doesn't stop until he's in front of Bangtan’s dorm building.

_What am I doing?_ Seungcheol asks himself. His sweat is cool as it drips down the side of his face, but he can barely feel the breeze that blows by. His skin feels tingly.

He counts the steps to Yoongi, still unsure of what he's doing. A thousand questions flit through his mind: what if Yoongi Isn't home? What if he doesn't feel the same way? What if everything falls apart in the span of a few months?

Seungcheol raps his knuckles on the wooden door, knocking in time with his heart ( _although is it really his anymore?_ ).

_Thud thud, th-thud thud._

Seungcheol hopes Yoongi doesn't answer. He really hopes Yoongi does.

The door swings open – and there Yoongi is, staring at Seungcheol like he fell from the sky.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi utters, words tumbling out in gruff satoori. “It's midnight.”

“You're really pretty.”

Yoongi's expression slackens at Seungcheol’s words. He wants to take it back, but it's too late; like a broken dam, the words spill out of Seungcheol's mouth.

“You're pretty and you're nothing like Jihoon,” Seungcheol blurts out, hands fidgeting with his jacket zipper. “You're really soft and you smell nice and you're the only hyung I have. I think I really like you.” His mouth goes dry. Everything is too bright. “I love you.”

There’s a strange look in Yoongi’s eyes. His grip on the door is white-knuckled. “You're mistaken, kid,” he scoffs, turning away to slam the door shut.

Seungcheol’s palm stings as he stops the door from swinging shut. The pain doesn't register as he surges forward, forcing Yoongi backwards and away from the door.

“I know how I feel,” the younger insists. “Don't act like I'm some stupid kid who doesn't know love. I know what it is. I've had it before and I was stupid enough to let it go.”

Yoongi's eyes widen, not unlike a frightened pup. Seungcheol's voice softens. “I don't want to let you go.”

“Seungcheol.” It might possibly be the first time Seungcheol’s ever heard Yoongi say his name. It sounds sweet.

“Hyung, please.” He can't help the plead in his voice. He tips his head, leaning down slowly so he can give Yoongi a chance to punch him if he wants.

Seungcheol holds his breath as Yoongi raises his fist, but he doesn’t swing.

“You're crazy,” Yoongi breathes.

They stay like that, caught in the moment. Seungcheol’s still awkwardly bent over Yoongi, but the elder isn't pushing him away. He considers that a win.

“You’re,” Yoongi says slowly, “crazy.” His fingers are rough as they slide into Seungcheol’s hair, tugging him down for a kiss that feels a lot like coming home. Their lips slide together like they’re two puzzle pieces that fit and all of this – this moment where only the two of them exist – falls into place like it’s been written in the stars.

 

 

They’ve been sprawled on Yoongi’s bed for two hours now, content to just lay there and listen to each other’s heartbeats. Their phones have been pinging nonstop, but neither can be bothered to reply their nosy teammates.

Yoongi’s got his laptop out, messing around with some beats while Seungcheol watches sleepily. Yoongi’s heart plays its own rhythm – a steady _th-thump_ that’s better than any lullaby.

“I’m leaving in three days,” Yoongi murmurs, pausing in his work to card his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair. The younger lets out a hum, arms tightening around Yoongi’s waist. It feels nice, this intimacy. It’s something he never dared imagine he’d have for himself.

“I can’t ask you to not go,” Seungcheol says. He lifts his lids, leaning up to kiss Yoongi just because he can. “Promise you’ll call?”

“Every day.”

Seungcheol snorts, head resting on Yoongi’s sternum. He bites back a grin as he feels the elder’s breathing stutter. “You won’t. You’re too lazy.”

Yoongi shoots him an unimpressed look, before his lips break out into a grin, his gums on display as his eyes curve into crescents. Seungcheol’s heartbeat flutters in his throat and he’s so _in love_ and it feels great. It’s even better because he can lean up and press his lips to Yoongi and he _knows_ he’s being loved back.

“I’ll answer all your messages and calls,” the elder whispers, slipping into satoori that sounds like home. “Always.”

“Always?” he challenges.

Yoongi lets go of his laptop then, the battered machine precariously perched on his ridiculously delicate knees. He reaches down, cupping Seungcheol’s face with hands that could hold fragile glass.

“For you?” The grin becomes something very soft, the kind that reminds Seungcheol of mountain air and musty arcades you play in after school. _Home_. “Always.”

“I love you.” The words slip out – much like the first time, but without the heart-pounding nervousness of rejection.

“Oh, Seungcheol,” Yoongi sighs. His thumb brushes Seungcheol’s lips with the gentlest of touches. It makes him feel precious – from the look in his eyes to his gentle breaths on Seungcheol’s lips. “I love you too.”

Their second kiss still feels like fireworks going off in Seungcheol’s brain; a bit of home mixed in with the excitement of something he still needs to get to know. He hopes that feeling will never go away.

 

[7.32 a.m.]

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_seungcheol-ah we raechde chile_

_safe n sondu_

_oh_

_n gd morning_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_Wow no typo that time_

_I’m impressed_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_shtu up_

_where’s my gd morngin_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_Good morning, hyungie~_

_How was ur flight?_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_shit_

_i missed u_

_can’t u come over???_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_I’m rly impressed now_

_U lasted a whole day_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_jagi pls_

_i’ll buy u ice craem_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_dkedQJDWkw_

_jAgI_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_dun like it?_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_sejdnlknoefij_

_I didn’t say tht_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_jagiya~~~_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_Hyungie!_

_It’s too ealry for this_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_hyungie?_

_i like it when u call me that_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_U only don’t make typos when u’re being grOSS_

_I need to go. I have practice_

_Call me tonight?_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_anything for u, jagi_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_efjnqwejkdnqJNDQJWND_

_MY HEART_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_it’s laet_

_good night, jagi_

_love u_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_…_

_U’re secretly a big sap, aren’t u?_

**From: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_nooooooo_

**To: Yoongi hyungie** **❤**

_…_

_I love u too, hyungie_ **❤**


End file.
